


Where No Man's Come Before

by plaidshirtjimkirk



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gratuitous Smut, M/M, NSFW, One Shot Collection, PWP, Space Husbands, absolute filth, spirk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirtjimkirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Spirk PWPs. Each chapter is a stand-alone story. May Surak save my soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thigh High Spocks

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for checking this out! I wasn't planning to publish my nsfw short stories anywhere beside my blog since they're all just total gratuitous filth...but I wound up writing something too long to post. (Long, unavoidable read mores are so uncomfortable on mobile, sadly.) So! Here we are. I apologize if this isn't what you subscribed to me for.
> 
> I'll post a summary before every chapter so you know what you're in for, but I guarantee up front that everything is consensual and bottom!Spock. All stories are self-betaed and nothing more than cheap thrills, I'm afraid. lol On that note....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Jim buys Spock a pair of thigh high socks and you won't BELIEVE what happens next.
> 
> bossy!bottom!Spock badly wants to be eaten out, dirty talking!Jim, rimming, so much rimming, Spock strutting around in thigh highs
> 
>  
> 
> *** * * CONTAINS NSFW ART TOWARD THE BOTTOM * * * ******

**Thigh High Spocks**

It had all started months ago with a gift: a flat rectangular box tied with a small navy ribbon, extended in Spock’s direction. Perplexed, Spock’s eyes had fallen to the offering in Jim’s hand and at first, he'd merely stared at it.

“It’s for both of us this time.” The soft smirk that eased across Jim’s face complemented the smoldering in his gaze. “But I’d like you to do the honors.”

Spock had never understood the penchant that so many individuals possessed for buying souvenirs on shore leave; Jim was no exception to that lot, and Spock could only imagine what he’d brought back on this occasion. Making arbitrary predictions was a wasteful use of time, however, so he carefully undid the tiny bow and then slid one deft fingertip along the back crease of the wrapping paper.

Once the seal of tape was broken and the gift wrap subsequently removed, Spock found himself holding a shimmery onyx box with a matte red lip print in the lower right corner. He pulled at the top, easing it off and revealing sparkly purple tissue paper that enveloped something soft.

“Jim, what—”

“Go on,” Jim urged as he crossed his arms and casually shifted his weight to his other leg.

Spock pulled the dainty paper away and his digits landed upon silken black fabric. He inspected what was apparently some kind of attire; the material was thin and appeared long enough to have been delicately folded over itself three times.

He removed the gift from the box, observing as the flimsy item unwound and fell an impressive way toward the floor before it was fully extended.

“A scarf,” Spock announced with a lifted brow and then glanced over at Jim.

“Ah…” Jim began, his voice quivering slightly as the corners of his lips pulled hard into his cheeks. “Not…not exactly, Spock. Here, let me show you.”

Reaching for the long garment, Jim took it and pulled a small silver clasp free from the top. The ‘scarf’ split into two identically cut pieces of fabric. With one dangling from each of his hands, Jim said, “They’re socks.”

“Socks,” Spock repeated in monotone.

“Well…specifically, they’re called _thigh highs_.” When Spock furrowed his brow, Jim huffed out a tiny laugh. “Anyway, I think they’d look really nice on you. Would you mind trying them on?”

Spock raised his chin, peering at the socks through his dark lashes as Jim extended them in his direction. It was a moment before he finally relented and reached to take them. “Very well, if it is your wish. Though I must admit…” Spock paused, his eyes raising to find Jim’s once more, “that I do not see the purpose of such attire.”

Jim chuckled. “I’m sure it’ll make sense after you put them on.”

Neither of them knew how right those words had been.

Jim’s incentive to make the purchase had been confirmed once Spock emerged from their shared bathroom in the requested configuration: blue tunic, black briefs, a small patch of bare verdant skin, long socks, and boots. The massive tent in his lover’s trousers was all the evidence Spock needed to know that thigh highs were something Jim was into.

But what Spock hadn’t expected at all was how scandalous wearing them made him feel. And more surprising than that…he _liked_ that feeling.

...In fact, he liked it very, very much.

~

“I’ll have you checkmated again in three moves.” Supported by an elbow on his knee, Jim’s chin rested in the palm of his hand and he offered a smug grin across the table.

Chess had transformed from a peaceful way of passing quiet ship nights together into a fierce competition with high stakes. After a suggestion to—in human terms— _spice the contest up between them_ , Jim and Spock had begun mini championship games on their free evenings in which they would play up to five matches. The winner of the most games would get to choose what they did afterward…which frequently resulted in some kind of sexual activity.

Whatever the outcome, it was always a mutually beneficial situation ending with Spock being quite literally a sore loser or a sore winner the next morning—deliciously sore, specifically. He’d never openly admit it, but bending over his scanner on the bridge and still feeling the actions from the prior night made him ridiculously horny.

In fact, that was his current issue.

Their last encounter had been several days ago and though Spock came out of it sated (and not to mention shaking), it’d been so good that anticipation for the next time they’d fuck stayed relentlessly on his mind. Particularly, Jim’s tongue against his hole crossed his thoughts an unsettling amount of times since then—enough to have had Spock palming the premature erection in his briefs earlier while he studied his reflection after showering.

The thigh highs clinging to his legs did nothing to help his situation. Spock knew damn well what they did to Jim, but the reverse could’ve been said of him; he wore them to intentionally arouse Jim, but the reason for Spock to do that was because he, himself, had been aroused. It all came full circle.

Of all the things in the universe—secret handshakes, special words, knowing looks— _socks_ had become a secret code to indicate sex was definitely happening that night. Ridiculous.

And when Jim knew Spock was horny, he exploited it as much as possible. He’d take his time, keep Spock on the edge until he was a writhing, moaning mess humping against the blankets and thinking he’d go fucking mad enough to actually beg.

Normally, that was acceptable and somewhere deep down, Spock enjoyed the torment. But after days of having even his _meditation_ clouded by wanting a good rimming, Spock was in no condition to be toyed with. He wanted Jim’s tongue, and with the way chess was going tonight, he’d get it…but only after a long, suffering wait while Jim intentionally fucked with him to drive him crazy.

“Yyyyep,” Jim said with a stretch, then. His arms extended high over his head and he slouched once they fell. “You can just concede now, Spock. I won’t hold it against you.”

Like _hell_ he wouldn’t. And in that moment, Spock abruptly stood.

“I shall not,” he declared, his tone skating on harshness. Spock ignored the widening of Jim’s eyes and the concern immediately washing over his face as he hastily reached for his button and zipper.

“Spock, I—” Whatever words Jim intended to say next were stolen from his mouth when Spock’s trousers dropped to the floor and puddled about his feet.

With a hardened expression, Spock cocked his head to the side and peered down at Jim, his gaze turning cold and commanding. He stepped out of his trousers and slowly stalked around the small table until he paused at Jim’s side. From the reaction he received, Spock considered that he might’ve been overly abrasive, so he lessened his tone.

“I shall not,” Spock repeated in a softer voice. “At the moment, that is.” He reached to the top of the long sock hugging his thigh near Jim and slipped a finger inside the elastic band. He pulled it back, snapped it against his skin, and promptly turned. A dismissive strut took him toward the sleeping alcove.

“H—hey!” Jim exclaimed, jumping from his chair so fast it nearly tipped over. “That’s…”

Once Spock disappeared behind the divider, he heard Jim’s footsteps carrying him across the small space.

“That’s! That’s…” Without even glancing back, Spock knew what expression had crossed Jim’s face by the way his final word flat-lined. “…cheating.”

Spock had assumed a provocative position at the foot of the bed, facing away from Jim as he sat with his knees spread wide and legs folded at his sides. Beneath him, he felt the top cover against his balls through the fabric of his briefs. A jolt of desire shot directly into the knot forming in his belly.

If someone had told him back then that the little black box Jim handed him would change his life, Spock would’ve never believed it. After all, what could a pair of socks possibly do, besides give Jim a raging boner? Humans had strange fetishes and Spock had his logic.

Alas, it was true, though—Spock was very much affected. Donning thigh highs gave him confidence and the cunning to be a little bossier than he already was in bed. Wearing them actually made him experience what it was like for one to feel sexy, and watching Jim react favorably only fueled the fire.

“I was not aware that suspending the match constitutes cheating,” Spock clinically replied. His sass level was off the charts, but so was his arousal. He turned his face until his chin hit his shoulder and his eyes found Jim’s. With a raised brow, he inquired in the same tone, “Would you like an apology?”

Visibly breathing a little harder, Jim’s hand lifted and took hold of the divider. He casually gazed up at it to gather himself and conceded, “Fair enough.” His attention fell back to Spock, and a sultry smirk pulled at one edge of his mouth. “I assume you have a request, then, Commander?”

This kind of banter was a big part of their foreplay; Jim talked dirty while Spock communicated with body language, which began by the slow employment of subtle hints. Tonight was different. With how bad he’d been wanting this, there was no time for nuance or playing twenty questions.

Spock abruptly pushed himself to a tall kneeling position. His thumbs hooked to the rim of his briefs and he shoved them down to his bent knees. Leaning forward, his palms hit the cover and he gracefully slid his right leg free from his underwear. He shoved his thighs far apart and gave Jim a view that instantly wiped the mischievous grin right off his face.

Thinking of the picture he made now went straight to Spock’s head—and his cock. It was so indecent and so unbelievably erotic. He was still in his tunic, even…had worn it on the bridge today, taken orders in it, and now here he was, willfully exposing himself to his captain like this. Spock felt heat spread from the center of his face and stretch to the tips of his ears, felt his cock hanging swollen and heavy between his widely spread legs covered by the long, black socks. And of course, there was colder air against his hole now, making it all so titillatingly real.

Spock slipped his knees even further apart, pushed his ass up a little higher in invitation, and then possessed the gall to peer over his shoulder again.

Jim’s lips had fallen and he now stared unblinking and breathing heavily, as his hands fumbled desperately with his trousers. “Holy fuck,” he whispered, dropping them and lumbering toward the bed.

The mattress shook violently when Jim pounced on it, and Spock immediately felt a palm slap against one asscheek, then the other. He felt Jim pushing both further aside, felt him running his thumbs just barely over his hole and then spreading him wide.

And finally, finally, _finally_ it happened. The tip of Jim’s tongue drew a half-hearted circle around Spock’s rim before flattening over it and emphatically going to work.

Choking back a strangled sound, Spock’s chest crashed to the bed. As his tunic slid up toward his shoulders, he unintentionally moaned deeply into the cover, taking the fabric between his teeth and biting hard. His hands clenched and his eyes screwed shut as it took every shred of control to keep himself from already busting a nut all over the blanket. Behind him, he heard Jim breathing heavily and moaning against his flesh, felt him kneading his cheeks and then fucking him with his tongue.

A quiet mewl escaped Spock’s mouth. _This_ is what he’d wanted and starved over, would’ve even begged and sobbed for if he'd been forced to. He purred and moaned, wiggled himself back against Jim as he felt the inferno in his loins mounting further and further.

They fell into a rhythm then, with Spock forcefully undulating his hips while Jim stayed with him, his tongue worshiping the fuck out of Spock’s hole—rapidly flicking, spearing, lapping, and tasting him like he was a famished man eating the last meal of his entire life.

It'd been an impressive, nonstop run for them both when Spock felt his muscles beginning to tighten...and Jim suddenly shoved himself back, gasping for air.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jim rasped, lightly dragging his nails over Spock’s asscheeks and hooking his fingers into the socks. He pulled back to snap the material and then ran his hot palms up and down limber Vulcan thighs. “You’re so fucking horny,” he panted, as Spock pushed up from his chest and reached back in Jim’s direction. “It’s so hot.” Jim licked his lips when their eyes met. “Spock, it’s so fucking hot, you’re so—mmn!”

Spock’s hand pushed firmly on the back of Jim’s head, crushing his mouth against his hole again; logic dictated that if Jim was recovered enough to sit there talking filth, he could put that tongue to better use. No protest was received, marking yet another victory for Vulcan philosophy.

 

_Amazing art by[st-r-trk-fangasm!](http://st-r-trk-fangasm.tumblr.com/post/148236832752/entry-22-vulcan-philosophy-for) _

 

Spock managed to keep his hand against Jim’s head for several more moments before he couldn’t take it anymore and had to brace himself against the blanket. He took fistfuls of the cover as Jim moaned against him, smacked one cheek hard (surely leaving a handprint), and took hold of his thighs. However, it wasn’t until Spock felt a hand envelop his rod and begin furiously pumping when he bit his bottom lip, responding in kind by throwing himself back against Jim’s face now in wanton desperation.

So close, so close, so close, so _close_!

Spock’s teeth gritted together and he sucked a loud breath in between them as his eyes snapped shut. “Ah…ah…ah, _Jim_!”

The tension in his body exploded like a supernova, triggering a shockwave of spasms and leaving him trembling and making sounds he’d prefer to never recall. Spock felt his hole clenching and unclenching against Jim’s tongue as his seed shot out and covered the hand still working his shaft. He rode out the shockwaves, tossing his hips backward over and over and over, until his energy disappeared and he at last collapsed on the bed.

He panted into the blanket as the stars exploding behind his eyes faded out. Far away in reality, Spock felt Jim flicking his tongue once more over his his hole, before pursing a kiss against it and then falling to the mattress as well.

The bed shook and silence remained between them for several moments, except for the sound of labored breathing. Spock’s lashes finally fluttered as he came to in the puddle of his own come, and then turned his face to look at Jim. They both just gazed at each other before Jim’s lips upturned into a grin.

With his mission accomplished, Spock lifted one of corner of his mouth in the tiniest smile and quietly said, “I concede.”

Confusion spread over Jim’s face. “What?”

“The match,” Spock replied, matter-of-factly. “I now concede.”

Perplexed, Jim stared for several seconds, before his seriousness dissipated into laughter. He rubbed his eyes and over a large and breathy exhale proclaimed, “You are the _most_ insatiable…” Without finishing that thought, he opened them again and just smiled wider. “You know, you’re really something in those socks, Spock.”

Still lying prone, Spock lifted his calves up and locked his ankles in the air. He glanced back at them, and then folded his arms against the cover. Resting his chin over one arm, he gazed back at Jim and softly said, “I am quite aware.”

“I’m glad you are,” Jim whispered, reaching to one deft hand resting near him. He leaned down to kiss the fingertips, gently speaking against them so his voice would reverberate. “Because I’m not letting you take them off tonight.”

Indeed. Spock smiled with his eyes. Losing chess to Jim wasn’t such a bad thing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


	2. When the Captain's Away, the First Officer Plays (...With Himself)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Jim is away and Spock is insanely horny. Whatever will he do? This started out as a thing I was sending to my friend over a chat (hence the present tense), but then it got way out of control. As it always does. lol
> 
> solo!insanely horny!Spock, fapping, fingering, a fuck ton of talk about rimming lol, praise kink

**When the Captain's Away, the First Officer Plays (...With Himself)**

The universe is filled with constants that make it tick a certain way.

For starters, there's the force of gravity, the speed of light, the mass of the electron, the sound of McCoy's southern bitching over a bottle of brandy, and the extent to which Spock loves Jim playing with his ass. If just one of these things fluctuates out of order, the balance of nature is skewed and everyone is fucked.

Therefore, this begs to be reiterated: Spock _loves_ when Jim plays with his ass. Tongue, fingers, sometimes toys. No one’s ever done this to him before, but it seems Jim is content to use one or more of those methods to blow Spock's mind every night.

That’s why things get interesting when Jim goes away for a Terran week because of some waste-of-time _Starfleet Captains Only_ conference. At first, Spock has no issue controlling himself; it's not like he spends every moment thinking about Jim fucking him. He reminds himself of this fact on days two, three, and four—and twice on day five, while he's sitting in the captain's chair lewdly ghosting fingertips over his palm. The cure for a mid-shift hard on is to simply envelop himself in work and not allow his thoughts to wander. Spock excels at this.

However, the real challenge begins when he returns to their quarters in the late evening and inhales Jim’s scent, when Spock can no longer distract himself from what the absence of Jim's presence is doing to him. He tries to dampen the effects in meditation, but by the fifth night, sitting quietly is only making his situation worse. When Spock closes his eyes, he can’t avoid the recollection of how Jim’s tongue feels against his hole or the way he gently pushes against it with the pad of a fingertip. He wants the attention so badly that his rim squeezes and twitches.

From where he kneels on the mat at his bedside, Spock’s mouth opens with a gasp and his lashes part. Panting for air, his clasped hands tighten as he makes an executive decision.

It's time for intervention. There's no way he can endure another two days of this and maintain the same level of stellar performance.

Choice made, Spock rises, unclasps his robe, and lets it fall the length of his body until it's a heap at his feet. Clad only in a tight black undershirt and underwear, he steps out of the folds of fabric on the floor and climbs over to the mattress, positioning himself so he’s on his back. He raises his pelvis to make room, and then slides his briefs off.

From the confines of his underwear, his cock springs free at full salute—a green tumid column begging for relief. Obliging, Spock wraps his hand about the shaft and begins stroking while cupping his ballsack and massaging it. It isn’t long after when he realizes that this alone isn’t helping, that he’s in need of something else, something _more_.

With frustration beginning to mount, Spock abandons his dick in favor of letting his hand creep downward. He moves it further and further until his finger is in line with his crack, and just when he's about to push it between his cheeks, he stops.

The methodical individual he is, Spock considers how Jim would do this to him and hums deeply. Surely, Jim would begin by spreading him wide. Following the example set in his memory, Spock relocates his hand to the outer side of his thigh. From there, he grabs a cheek and tugs on it. His brow barely furrows when the cool air hits his exposed hole; it feels even colder without Jim there.

He teases himself by continuing to pull his cheek aside, then move it back, then spread it again. The sensation is curious. And though no one can see him and it doesn’t matter, he knows he’s blushing green as all ever-loving fuck. It still embarrasses him to think he is.

The blush is the last thing on Spock’s mind now, however.

He finally keeps one cheek pulled away, spreading himself wide. His other hand comes down, trailing over his cock, then his balls—travels across the taint and hovers just for a moment. And then, at last, he touches it. Lightly. The pad of his middle finger presses against his tiny opening.

Spock’s lips fall open. How Jim ever gets his cock in here without it hurting is a mystery. He huffs a breath out, and strokes his hole in a gentle feather-light touch, but that alone is enough to make him feel strange. It’s bizarre to register sensation in this place when he’s dry, so he raises his hand to his mouth...pauses to regard two of his sensitive fingertips for a brief moment before he slides them between his lips. He wets them, coating them thoroughly, and brings them back down.

Ah, yes. That’s better, a little easier to move his finger against his entrance now that it’s wet. He begins rubbing and drawing circles, exploring himself. Only Jim has ever touched him like this, and Spock longs for his presence here more than he can articulate...longs to hear him panting against his ear while he whispers obscenities into it, longs for his touch and the feeling of his lips everywhere. And if Jim were in this room with him right now, Spock knows damn well he’d be on all fours, pushing himself against that pretty human face.

An idea forms and his hand retreats into the side drawer. After procuring a half-empty bottle of slick, he turns around so he’s face down on the bed. His knees slide under his hips, hiking his lower half up while his chest remains pressed to the mattress with the side of his face buried in the pillow. His legs are spread now, his ass totally exposed.

It’s just like he would be if Jim were with him.

…Except Jim isn’t. And this is _outlandishly_ indecent, but so incredibly erotic.

Spock swallows hard and pops the top of the bottle open, then turns it over. He watches as a dollop of slippery clear fluid drips down his long fingers, and then reaches between his legs. His hole is still barely wet from being rubbed and flicked earlier, and his lips curl in when he touches himself again; the slick is cold. He strokes his rim with anticipation as it warms, trying to enjoy the feeling of his fingertip without thinking about how it’s no substitute at all for Jim’s tongue.

 _Fuck_ … It’s impossible. A purr escapes his lips. He wants that tongue there so badly…wants to feel Jim pushing into him with those big fingers while praising him and saying how good he is—how _tight_.

In a wanton moment fueled by wishful thinking, Spock presses the tip of his digit against his opening. When he breaches himself, he feels his hole squeeze and stops moving completely. His cock is leaking precome and he feels so fucking vulgar putting on a show for no one, on his knees in bed with his asscheeks spread wide and his own finger inside of himself.

Spock breathes a little deeper and experimentally pushes a bit further. Then retracts—gathers more slick from around his hole and reinserts it. He pushes it a little more in and continues working himself like this until he’s got the entire length inside of him comfortably.

He can just hear Jim talking, saying what he wants to hear most. 'So _tight_ , Spock. You’re so tight. I wish you could see yourself right now.' A small, frustrated moan reverberates into the pillow. 'Mm, look at you riding my fingers like that. But you want my tongue there instead, don't you?'

“Yes,” Spock whispers to no one as he begins stimulating that little bundle of nerves deep within him and furiously beating his cock off. "Yes, Jim..." He squeezes on his digit tightly while rocking his hips in attempt to heighten his pleasure, but within several moments, another onslaught of frustration consumes him.

Of course, it's good. He feels pleasure. But what he’s used to is so much more intense than this. By now, he'd be damn near tearing the sheets and when he thinks about that, his eyes open.

He can’t fucking stand this anymore. He’s spent days and days repressing his arousal and now when the time is available to finally unleash it, it's not enough; without Jim, it might _never_ be enough.

That thought has him nearly frantic. Spock retracts his finger and resorts to rubbing his hole, swaying his hips again and trying to convince himself that Jim is eating him the fuck out. But his digit is nothing like that experienced mouth and it’s utterly _maddening_ and if he could _just_ –

 _SHHHHWWWWIIIPP!!_ The door!

Spock’s katra nearly fucking leaves his body when the entrance to the bathroom moves. His eyes snap open and he crashes against the bed, scrambling to free the blanket and cover his body.

A heavy hand plants firmly against his back and stops him.

“No.” _That voice!_ “Stay like that.”

“J…Jim…" Spock stammers, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. "You have return–nghh!”

The tongue he wanted so badly is suddenly against his hole, forcefully laving at it, lapping at it, flicking over it, breaching him—unintentionally punishing Spock for thinking he could ever compare to it. His cock is taken by a large, warm hand that starts pumping and working him exactly how he loves to be touched. And that's when everything goes straight to his head, the knot in his belly tightens one last time, and Spock completely loses it.

There isn’t a shred of control in the entire known universe that can save his soul from catapulting directly into the stars at this moment. With a sound unsettlingly close to a whine, Spock helplessly begins jizzing while tossing his ass back against Jim’s face. His seed paints stripes of white on the top cover of the bed and he’s unable to give a single fuck about the mess he’s making as his body convulses and shakes.

Shuddering and oversensitive, it all becomes too much and Spock slowly sinks to the bed in defeat, his midsection pressing into his own come. Moments pass before his ears stop ringing and he no longer sees double, until his muscles finally relax.

That's when his mind returns to their quarters, and when reality hits.

Reality hits _hard_.

Spock’s cheeks and ears are fucking burning with embarrassment now. To think that Jim walked in on him when he was in such a state…… His eyes snap closed and he buries his face in the pillow, unable to offer even verbal acknowledgement.

“Well, Spock,” Jim says. “As far as _welcome homes_ go, this is more than I could’ve ever asked for.” He lowers himself at Spock’s side and then pushes his shoulder so he can no longer hide his face.

“Hey,” Jim whispers, pushing his lips against Spock’s. “I missed you, Mister.” Another kiss. “So much, in fact..." And one more yet. "...that I left early.”

Spock realizes he’s not being judged and though he’s still utterly mortified and blushing, all he can do is kiss Jim back and softly moan when he feels those familiar large fingers take hold of one asscheek and pull it aside—feels his hole being stroked gently.

Jim pulls away and noses Spock, softly asking, “Did you miss me?”

_Oh, if only you could know how much…_

Spock pushes his ass against Jim’s hand, takes fistfuls of his gold tunic. Fuck, he knows he’s in for it tonight. And he’s more than fucking ready.

“ _Yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


	3. Disciplinary Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Spock teases Jim with sexy underwear underneath his uniform all ship's day. This results in him being taught a lesson about crew conduct later.
> 
> I originally wrote this as another informal thing sent to my friend (that's why it's in present tense)... but then repurposed it for an ask I received on tumblr: "Ok ok ok but Spock can be such a fucking tease bc he absolutely gets off on being wanted. So some days he'll wear garters and a lacy thong under his uniform. It doesn't interfere with his ability to concentrate, but he might just accidentally brush up against Jim and let Jim feel the clasps under Spocks pants. Spock can feel Jims growing desire the rest of the day, and /that/ is more than a little distracting."
> 
> the return of Spock in thigh highs, plus a garter belt and thong lol, Spock teases Jim when there's no action on the ship, #scanner thirst, roleplay, masturbation, fingering, rimming, praise kink, fucking over a desk, MEHH IT'S OOC but it's totally gratuitous porn so whatever lmao
> 
> *** * * CONTAINS NSFW ART TOWARD THE BOTTOM * * ***

**Disciplinary Action**

Spock knows what he’s doing, but the effect it has is currently none of his concern.

It’s only logical that he should wear such attire. Out of the goodness of his heart, Jim had purchased these items as gifts; if Spock didn’t use them, he might come off as offensive or ungrateful—and he is neither of those.

Experiencing arousal while on duty is ultimately the captain’s own fault and his own issue to deal with. If Jim never expected Spock to wear such garments outside of their quarters, perhaps he should have considered the ramifications of presenting them before they were acquired. Naturally, though, humans are illogical creatures and often make emotional, impulsive decisions…decisions which carry burdensome consequences from time to time.

That is _none_ of Spock’s business, though. Jim’s boner is not his problem to deal with while they’re working, even if he is intentionally the cause of it.

Truthfully, Spock finds the underwear (something Terrans call a _thong_ , according to Jim) he’d slipped on in place of his usual briefs absurd. Even the matching garter belt is thicker than the flimsy piece of string comprising the back of it. Luckily, the belt is still flat and slim enough to be hidden beneath Spock’s trousers, and no one would ever know he’s wearing it—not even Jim.

…until Spock _accidentally_ brushes his leg against Jim’s hand that ship’s morning in the crowded lift, ensuring the small clasps pass over his knuckles. In his peripheral vision, Spock observes how Jim’s chin immediately lifts—sees his eyes widen slightly and then the way he turns his face to seek out his gaze.

Kaiidth. Every decision has a consequence, Captain. Spock refuses to acknowledge the silent reach for attention and keeps his focus trained on the red doors.

When the platform arrives on the bridge and crewmembers shuffle about, Spock reports directly to the science station but doesn’t sit. The Enterprise is traveling to its next survey mission and there’s no need to take any readings after just having received the swing shift’s all-clear report. However, Spock decides there would be no harm in double-checking. Just in case. He strives for 99.99999% accuracy in his duties, after all.

As he bends over the scanner with his boots spread just a little wider than usual, Spock is absolutely conscious of the power he holds. He’s driving the captain fucking crazy.

And with no intention of relinquishing it, Spock knows Jim will have two long, arduous shifts this day—and that he’ll undoubtedly pay for it later. In fact, with this lull in activity on the ship, that’s what he’s counting on.

“Confirmed. Nothing anomalous on long range sensors, Captain,” Spock reports without looking toward the center seat. He rights himself, faces the forward viewscreen, and folds his hands behind his back. His head raises regally. “At this moment, our trajectory is clear.”

“Ah, no asteroid field to navigate this time,” Chekov sighs at the helm, bracing his palms against the edge and stretching his arms. “An easy day!”

Spock lifts a brow at the unintended irony of that statement and glances at Jim, finding his lips tight, nostrils slightly dilated, and eyes locked on the field of stars ahead. The hand clasped into a fist on the arm of his chair is telling enough of Jim’s inner struggle.

“I would not wish to disappoint you, Ensign Chekov,” Spock says as he returns to his station. “I shall perform the scan once more on a wider vector setting.”

Once more, he bends over the scanner a little further than necessary.

Indeed. It’s going to be a long day for the captain.

~

When the door to Jim’s quarters shuts behind them this night, containment is lost and sexual tension detonates like a breached warp core.

Large hands take fistfuls of Spock’s shirt, forcefully shoving him back against the bulkhead. Their exhales intermingle as Jim’s knee firmly plants between Spock’s legs, a deliciously plump human thigh pressing against his cock.

Spock may have spent hours with the upper hand today, but now he knows his place. He leans in for a kiss to convey apology, but a stiff tug on his tunic pulls him slightly to the side instead. Jim’s lips press directly against his ear.

“What the hell do you think this is, Mister?” Jim hisses as his breaths fall with heavy panting, his rod painfully hard within the confines of his clothing. “Some kind of game?”

Closing his eyes, Spock’s mouth opens and he rasps out in a whisper, “N—no, Sir.”

“Don’t you _no, Sir_ me.” Jim’s voice sounds so sincerely angered that Spock might assume he actually is if he didn't know better. His hands unclasp from the blue tunic and travel down to take tight fistfuls of Spock’s trousers. Jim yanks hard on the material above where the clasps of the garter belt latch to his thigh highs. “On duty, Spock? Dressed like this? Really?”

“J—Jim,” Spock breathes, keeping himself as composed as he can. “There is no regulation against—”

“Against what? Provocative underwear?” The question is as ridiculous as it sounds. “Parading around in front of your captain like you’re on display? Intentionally attempting to _distract_ him for hours?”

Spock feels the heat blaze over his cheeks like two matches struck right across them. Not only is all of Jim’s desire and attention is completely focused on him, he is being falsely accused of violating Starfleet protocol by secretly wearing undergarments.

Inexplicably, Spock finds this incendiary. He pushes his head slowly back until it touches the gray wall behind him and his lashes slowly part almost dreamily. His chest rises and falls with significant breaths. "I would not name it an attempt if it was a success." A brow lifts. " _Sir_."

“All right. You want to get smart with me?" Jim purses his lips. "Looks like I have no choice but to discipline you then, Science Officer.” He gives another tug on Spock’s trousers before releasing them. “Go over to the desk.”

Once Jim steps off to make room, Spock begins stumbling toward the work area and pivots a half circle so they remain facing each other.  He moves backward slowly until his fingertips touch the smooth surface.

“Undo your trousers. Pull them down.”

Slowly, Spock undoes the button and the zipper. Without diverting his eyes from Jim’s, he drops them, letting them fall to bunch up at the top of his boots. The black garter belt and long socks deeply contrast his pale verdant flesh. Spock exhales. The thong is barely containing his hard on.

Jim folds his arms and deliberately lets his gaze wander down the entirety of Spock’s body, then back up. “Turn around.”

Spock’s breath hitches, but being the good and obedient officer he is, he does as he’s told without protest. The cool air against his bare cheeks is a titillating sensation and inspires a curious impression of vulnerability.

“Since you love bending over that scanner so much, I want you over the desk,” Jim orders. The coldness of command is in his voice–the same tone he uses on the bridge.

Somehow, the demand isn’t what Spock expects and the surprise of it is mortifying. He’d expected Jim to simply follow him over here, start with some tongue, and then have his way. But this... “I,” Spock begins, gazing over his shoulder. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you have a hearing problem, Mister?” Jim asks, a tinge of believable impatience present in his voice. “Bend over the desk.”

Spock’s lips part and he draws a breath. This is beyond humiliating, and his very logical mind tells him to protest it. Putting himself on display in such a manner is utterly filthy. What would his Vulcan colleagues say of it if they found out? If they only knew that in moments, he’d be bent over a desk in front of his human captain…

His cock is rock hard when he leans over that surface.

“Spock,” Jim’s voice breaks character when it drifts softly across the room. “Look at me,” Jim says and Spock obeys.

There’s pure lust in those human eyes and a very uncomfortable-looking bulge in his trousers. Jim swallows and squares his shoulders, apparently to reestablish himself in his role. It’s an impressive effort, for sure, but Spock is quite certain that Jim will end the whole charade within moments—that he’s incapable of resisting him in such a position. He’d never been able to before.

“Keep looking at me.” Jim regains his captain’s voice as his facial features harden. “Now, spread yourself with one hand.”

The unpredictable order makes Spock go weak in the knees.

“C—Captain…” Spock stammers, while Jim begins to tap one foot.

“Let me get this straight, _Spock_. First, you report to duty in non-regulation attire and strut your little ass around the bridge like we’re on some pleasure planet.” Jim’s words are unfaltering—strong and commanding—as he crosses his arms once more. “And now you still don’t follow orders.” He huffs and barely tilts his head. “Really, Spock? I thought you were Starfleet’s finest. What's Command going to think when they find out?”

The accusations are inflammatory, drawing attention away from any self-doubt. Spock immediately reaches back and pulls at his cheek–pulls it aside all the way while still maintaining eye contact. He can almost picture how the tiny string of the thong does nothing to hide anything between his cheeks with the sudden cold sensation present against his hole. He then sees Jim’s eyes drop to that same opening, staring at his most intimate place like he’s being judged. His mouth falls open and he exhales.

Spock remains on the edge like that, wondering how long he’ll have to endure this humiliation for. After several moments, it becomes too much and just when he’s about to let go of himself, Jim stalks up behind him. He runs his fingers through Spock’s hair and gently pulls it when he leans over and presses his lips to the side of his neck.

Breaking character again, Jim whispers softly against Spock’s skin as he trails gentle kisses over it. “Is this okay?”

With his eyes closed, all Spock can manage is a small hum of consent. He feels adoration from the transference of their contact, knows that Jim would never want him to be uncomfortable or do something he wouldn’t enjoy. And he’s not, even if he’s lewdly exposed and bent over a desk. Most often, the things that please Jim also please Spock; roleplaying captain and subordinate is surprisingly one of them.

Jim’s other hand begins undoing the belt of his own trousers, then the button and zipper. He doesn’t drop them, however, instead opting to simply wrestle his cock out of the front of his briefs.

He hooks a finger over the thong string and pulls it aside as he spreads Spock’s other cheek. Spock feels the warmth of Jim’s cock head pressing against his hole, and then smacking it gently several times.

“I’m gonna give you a lesson, Commander,” Jim growls, pushing against the entrance enough to be firm but not cause pain. “Show you how to behave on this crew.”

“Yes, Captain.” It’s all Spock can rasp out in reply.

Jim pulls away, and Spock takes it as the cue to push himself up. A hand weighs down against his shoulder to stop him. “Absolutely not.”

Spock freezes.

“Stay right there,” Jim says as he walks around the desk and reaches into the drawer. He procures a small bottle of clear fluid. “I might be disciplining you but I’m not about to do all the work.” He places the slick in Spock’s free hand on the desk. “So, get yourself ready for it.”

Spock’s eyes widen a little and he watches Jim stalk back around, peering over his shoulder. He observes with desire as Jim makes quick work of kicking off his boots and freeing himself from his trousers and briefs. Finally, he pulls a chair up behind Spock, sits, and crosses his arms.

“Well? Go on.”

Swallowing hard, Spock looks at the bottle in his hand and then flips the cap open. His heart is pounding in his side, his head feeling heavy as embarrassment colors his cheeks and ears an even deeper green. Slick coats the middle and pointer fingers of his left hand, and then he’s hesitantly pushing his torso up and reaching behind him at an awkward angle.

“Eyes on me, please,” Jim announces, somehow managing to sound disinterested when the opposite is clearly true.

Their gazes meet as Spock’s ankles slide as far as they can within the confines of the trousers binding his shins. The position is uncomfortable, but he concludes that it will have to do. However, just as he’s about to touch himself, Jim is on his feet and approaching him again. Spock almost experiences what humans call relief when he watches his captain drop to his knees behind him, obviously to save him from this mortification.

Spock feels Jim unzipping one boot and pulling it off his foot, then freeing that leg from his trousers. The action is repeated so both limbs are no longer confined. A warm hand travels up Spock’s long black socks, and he feels two of Jim’s large fingers press on either side of his hole, pushing up and spreading it. Lifting his ass to give Jim the best leverage, Spock takes secret delight in the knowledge that he’s about to be pleasured by that skilled tongue—

And then Jim stands back up, quickly returning to his chair. “One leg on the desk, Mister.”

The shift in reality is polarizing. Spock blinks. He was so certain that Jim was about to eat him out that his entrance clenches at the absence of the sensation.

“Come on, Spock,” Jim calls out impatiently, slouching in the chair and grabbing his cock. “Get on with it. We don’t have all night.”

“Jim… _please_. I cannot—”

“Can’t what? Take orders? Apparently so.”

What else is there to do at this point, other than comply or beg for oral stimulation? Spock’s eyes barely squint. He will _not_ do the latter. But his hole is starving for attention and if Jim isn’t ready to provide that yet, Spock knows it’s on him to help himself. He immediately lifts his knee to the tabletop after that thought, spreading his legs wide and giving Jim one delightful view.

Black straps from the garter belt press to his cheeks, keeping his long socks in place about his thighs. Finally without any obstacles in his way, Spock takes his slick-coated middle finger and strokes his opening, petting it and flicking over it, pushing the thong strap out of the way, before his digit presses in.

He’s so fucking horny at this point that he pushes the entire length of his finger in, his top teeth scraping against his lower lip when the strange feeling of sudden penetration floods his senses. Spock’s eyes are still on Jim as he begins to move it out and in, out and in, then building up to a quicker motion. A choppy exhale falls from his lips as he watches Jim’s hand working over his shaft, and then Spock tries for the second digit.

“You are so beautiful,” Jim comments, all traces of his former harshness gone now. He then whispers, “Look at you.”

The praise makes Spock pull his eyes from Jim’s and shut. The extent to which his arousal heightens when Jim compliments him during sexual activity is something he will never understand. His second finger is steadily pushing in now, and he pants softly as he gives himself a moment to adjust. Spock can’t even imagine what he looks like, with two fingers deep in his tiny verdant entrance—but Jim obviously really, _really_ enjoys the sight.

A soft purr emanates from deep within Spock’s throat as he begins to finger himself like this. He licks his lips and opens his mouth, begins to rock his hips.

“One more,” Jim says gently from behind, after some time. “Can you do it?”

Spock gasps and nods, then carefully withdraws. He pours more slick over his fingers, getting them thoroughly coated before reaching back. The first two digits slide right in once more with ease, and then he begins coaxing himself open enough to accept a third.

It takes a little patience and a bit of adjustment—a little ignoring the discomfort of having just one leg supporting most of his weight—but Spock achieves his goal. His hole is stuffed with three fingers, now stimulating his prostate and scissoring as he humps against his own hand. Grateful that Jim never demanded visual contact again, Spock keeps his eyes shut while small groans are drawn from his lips, soft as whispers.

“ _Fuck_ , Spock.”

Green-faced, Spock at last shifts his attention on Jim to find him approaching, his hand working desperately over his rod. That’s the only indication he needs; he slowly pulls his fingers out—thinks about how Jim must be able to see the tiny gape of his hole before it closes back up.

“Are you ready?” Jim asks softly as he reaches beside Spock to pick up the bottle.

“Jim, I—”

“Mm?”

Spock hears the cap open, hears the wet sound of slick being massaged over Jim’s cock. He then lowers the leg supported by the desk to the floor, and considers how he could possibly phrase what he desires while still retaining his dignity.

“No?” Jim asks. “Not yet?”

Licking his lips, Spock abandons his dilemma and merely whispers Jim’s name. He offers himself by laying his chest flat on the desk and pushing his lower half up on his tiptoes.

“I know you better than you think.” That’s what Spock hears before Jim spreads his cheeks and stuffs his face between them.

[](http://66.media.tumblr.com/1d16a678acc8e8dbd3f567ca9a7ba9af/tumblr_obq4z3kKYa1s4o6hmo1_1280.jpg)

_Amazing art by[harinezumi69](http://harinezumi69.tumblr.com/post/148769125999/inspired-by-plaidshirtjimkirk-s-fic-please)! _

[](http://66.media.tumblr.com/9b915d3640dc88613f27b29a2fc38123/tumblr_obs0nretLQ1s4o6hmo1_1280.jpg)

_Even more amazing art by[harinezumi69](http://harinezumi69.tumblr.com/post/148817857759/plaidshirtjimkirk-heres-more-gratuitous-filth)! _

Spock can’t stop the moan this immediately pulls from somewhere deep in his chest. Jim is right; he was fully aware of what Spock wanted without it needing to be spoken aloud. Spock’s hands clench to the edge of the desk and he begins undulating his hips, riding Jim’s tongue until he can no longer ignore his own cock. He pulls it out from the thong and begins beating off, losing himself to the feeling of Jim stimulating him—he can fucking come just from this.

Before the situation escalates to that, Jim comes up to breathe, and undoubtedly rest his aching jaw. “Good? You're ready?” he asks over a heavy breath and Spock nods.

After applying more slick to his hole and fingering it to make sure Spock is well prepared, Jim lines his cock up and gently pushes forward. He takes his time as Spock’s body opens up to the penetration a little at a time—patiently moving slowly until he’s finally balls deep as they both pant and adjust themselves.

“You feel _amazing_ ,” Jim whispers, pressing kisses to Spock’s shoulder blades before he slowly begins to roll his hips back and forth.

Having Jim inside him feels so perfect and _right_ —so much that Spock quickly wants more and more and more. If Jim is the consummate lover by being patient, attentive, and caring, then Spock is the consummate needy bottom who is officially ready to get fucked into oblivion at this point. To encourage this, he begins tossing his ass back against Jim’s hips, while moaning quietly and chanting, “Jim, harder. _Harder_.”

That’s all Jim needs to hear. He takes a strong hold of Spock’s hips and it begins. Flesh slapping flesh at a punishing rate echoes within the captain’s quarters as Jim’s hands eventually latch onto the garter belt, pulling hard on the straps while he pounds into Spock.

It’s so good, it’s so _fucking_ good. Spock goes lightheaded for a moment as he’s tossing himself back to meet Jim’s thrusts, his pleasure mounting further and further until he feels himself on a crash course with the apex.

“J—Jim!! Please, I—” he gasps, clenching his cock at the base.

“Go ahead,” Jim pants. “Come for me.”

“The…ah! The mess. I—”

“ _Spock_! _Come_ for me.”

No arguments there. Spock begins furiously beating off while Jim continues pummeling into him, his arousal sent careening to the tipping point and finally right over the edge where he loses himself. With a long, deep moan, Spock comes beneath the desk, his hole tightly clenching and unclenching around Jim. He milks the orgasm out of his own cock until he’s shaking—completely overwhelmed and over-stimulated. Behind him, Spock hears Jim’s moans growing in volume as he builds up speed.

“I’m…gonna come... Fuck! _Fuck_!”

Spock feels Jim’s hips smash against his ass four more times before an immense warmth floods him. The motions of their bodies quickly slow to a stop after, and Jim finally presses his forehead between Spock’s shoulder blades. “Fuck,” he whispers again with a shudder. "So fucking good."

Out of breath, Jim’s arms slip possessively around Spock in an embrace, allowing his body language to do the talking while they both recover. Spock brings his hand up to brush Jim’s fingertips in a reply and he clasps onto them. Eventually, a final groan leaves Jim’s lips and he slowly stands.

Spock hums his approval as he feels Jim spread his cheeks a final time and then carefully pull out—feels the strap of the thong replaced over his stretched hole again for all the good it would do; it would be wet with come the moment Spock stands up.

“So,” Jim says, running his fingers down Spock's back and over the garter belt one last time. “Learn anything from that?”

"Indeed." Raising an eyebrow, Spock looks over his shoulder and his hole twitches. “I shall need more of these garments if I am to wear them beneath my uniform every ship’s day.”

A smile blooms across Jim’s face and he laughs; it is a genuinely pleasant sound, Spock finds. “Exactly. Come here, you.”

Spock carefully stands, giving his hips a shake to have the thong comfortably settle back in place. He steps into Jim’s open arms, feels them enclose around him, and receives a kiss on his lips.

“So, how about this?" Jim asks. "Let’s get showered and I’ll synthesize us some dinner? I'll clean up here after?”

Spock closes his eyes for but a moment as he nods once in agreement, then begins walking toward the shared bathroom with Jim in tow. It was intentional to go first; he can't help wondering if the sight of himself in these undergarments now would be enough to entice Jim into eating him out once more in the shower. A brow raises. It's a logical deduction.

(Turns out, Spock is right.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	4. Cowboy Diplomacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, this is nothing special. Pure fucking filth and 80% rimming. Spock wants the d, Jim wants to eat him out. Same thing, different day lmao

**Cowboy Diplomacy**

Jim deeply pitied those uneducated enough to believe Vulcans were cold and rigid computers only capable of mating once every seven years, but their loss was most certainly his gain. Smiling and breathless, he pulled away, ready to make a light-hearted comment about that—but the opportunity was stolen in an instant. A hand swung back wildly, entwined with his hair in a haphazard motion, and shoved his face forward again with demanding force.

_Fuck_ , were Vulcans absolutely _not_ cold and rigid computers. And as for getting a hard on from going without, forget seven years. Try seven _hours_. From the second they’d stumbled through the door, Spock’s handsome, delicate hands were tugging on Jim’s zipper and sliding in, begging for attention by cupping his cock through black briefs and massaging with just the right amount of command. He’d always preferred to convey his desire through action instead of spoken word…which was convenient for every resident in this wing. Because if Spock had vocalized what his body was currently saying, Jim was _sure_ the neighbors would be complaining.

(And possibly the neighbor’s neighbors. _Shit_.)

The confines of Jim’s trousers became much too tight within mere moments and he had to lose them as their lips parted and the taste of Spock flooded him. And as Jim wrestled himself out of the cramped bottom half of his clothes, he decided he could certainly put his tongue to better use.

So, that’s how he’d ended up on his knees, eating Spock out over their bed for fuck knows how long. If he really had to, Jim supposed he could make a guess from the way his jaw ached and he’d gone lightheaded. But facts and figures were better left to his better half…who was face down on the cover and making delightful sounds (tiny as they were) as he undulated his hips for more, more, _more_.

Jim wouldn’t make him ask again.

~

The mattress shook when Jim eventually flopped on his back, stripped naked and electrified from anticipation. With his jaw and tongue still feeling overworked, he maneuvered his way to the pillows on heels and elbows, and then fell against them with a grunt. “Okay, Spock. Ready?” Wearing a soft grin, Jim panted and held his hands out. “Come on up.”

From the foot of the bed, Spock crawled forward into Jim’s arms, not stopping until their lips met. With a moan, Jim placed a hand at the back of Spock’s head, holding him through the sloppy kiss and then letting large digits card through short black hair—the very same ones which had just been fingering that beautiful little hole three-deep.

He felt Spock tremble and his lashes fluttered open to a dark green blush emerging over angular cheeks; with total certainty, Jim knew he was thinking about how the tongue in his mouth now had just been passionately kissing another orifice on his body. Jim’s cock twitched at the thought of Spock tasting himself and getting off on it, then hummed to give the cue.

Spock responded immediately to it, pulling their mouths apart and adjusting himself into position. Their eyes remained locked as he reached back and rubbed the head of Jim’s cock against his entrance. Leaning in for another kiss, he began to sit back against it, when–

“Mmmweh,” Jim mumbled against his lips, pushing his head back and gasping for air. “Wait,” he repeated himself breathlessly.

“No,” Spock replied firmly, remaining insistent about his desperation.

The urgency drew a choppy breath from deep within Jim’s chest, and he could only imagine what the day must have been like for Spock. Two long shifts, dragging by with the memory from the morning of this dick fucking him until he couldn’t see straight—wanting it so badly again and yet having to wait very patiently until they were finally alone.

That’s why Jim would make this count. Pent up desire for hours was a bitch and enduring it with success deserved a reward.

“Ngh, hang on…” His hands grasped Spock’s hips and effectively stopped him from moving. “I have a suggestion.”

Spock audibly _sighed_ , his head hanging for a moment. It was the closest Jim had ever seen him to openly showing frustration.

“Fuck, Spock. All right, all right,” he relented with a soft laugh, releasing his hips and bringing a hand to Spock’s face. He offered a soft stroke across the cheek. “Next time, then. Go ahead.”

“You have five seconds to state your suggestion, Jim. Five.”

“What?”

“Four.”

“Oh.”

“Three.”

“Okay, wait–”

“Two.”

Jim’s eyes widened and he blurted out, “Turn around!”

Spock’s face lifted immediately and his brows pulled inward. “I beg your pardon?”

“…Turn around,” Jim reiterated in a softer voice, letting his hand trail from Spock’s cheek to his shoulder and all the way down to his hand.

Blinking, Spock seemed to lose himself in a moment of consideration, then hastily did as he was told. He straddled Jim’s torso in reverse—what a _sight_ he made, spread wide and his hole glistening with slick—and just as Jim was about to send a furor of praise tumbling forth about such beautiful scenery, Spock continued moving closer and closer to his face.

“Hey, I didn’t m–” Jim’s words were cut off by Spock’s ass pressing directly to his mouth, and he realized his suggestion had been misinterpreted as wanting to offer more oral stimulation. And though it hadn’t been his intention, far was Jim from arguing; he got off on giving as much as Spock seemed to appreciate receiving it. His tongue immediately poked out and wiggled hastily against the opening, now tasting like slick, but that wasn’t something that could stop Jim from doing what he loved most.

His hands came up to Spock’s cheeks and he pushed them widely apart, giving himself more room to breathe. Then, he went right to work: lapping at the opening, spearing his tongue inside, dragging the tip around the rim, and repeating. The movements were dedicated and purposeful, and this unexpected act lasted for even longer than Jim initially assumed it would as he got further into it.

Finally, with his jaw aching yet again, Jim let his head fall back against the pillows. The room temperature felt cold on his face, wet from his own saliva and he gave a laugh. One finger gravitated over to gently massage Spock’s hole.

“I didn’t mean that,” Jim panted, his eyes closed for a beat and a grin pulled out to his cheeks. “Though I’m definitely _not_ complaining.” He pressed the tip of his digit against Spock’s opening and shuddered at how it was so readily accepted.

Spock’s chin hit his shoulder as he attempted to look behind him without success. “Was this not your suggestion?”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Jim replied, withdrawing and tracing a circle around the entrance, then petting it with his fingertip. “I want you to ride me like this.”

Spock was silent for a moment. “It is agreeable.”

“Yeah?” Jim asked, licking his lips. “Then get to it, mister.” However, before allowing Spock to move away from his face, he leaned in to flick his tongue over the pretty green hole he would be ravaging within moments; it was a silent promise that he’d treat it well and give it what it’d wanted for so long today.

Finally released, Spock slid himself down Jim’s body until he was lined up properly again. After a quick reapplication of slick, he reached back to take hold of Jim’s cock and guide it in, but his effort was stopped by Jim gently pulling his hand away.

“Hang on, I got that,” Jim offered, replacing Spock’s hand with his own at the base. “All I want you to do is spread yourself and take it at your own pace. Keep facing forward.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

The usage of his rank caused Jim’s lower lip to curl in and his teeth gently bit down on it. There wasn’t much time to mull over how fucking sexy that was, however, because something far greater unfolded before his eyes immediately after. Breathless, he watched as Spock’s slender hands took hold of his cheeks and spread them until his slicked entrance became visible and pulled taut.

Gently smacking the opening with the head of his dick a few times, Jim rubbed against it before lining himself up. “Okay, whenever you’re ready. …It’s all you.”

There was something about watching that ridiculously tiny entrance opening little by little, forced to widen around his cock that took Jim to an entirely new headspace. His mouth fell open, observing with baited breath as Spock took more and more and more.

The dark green rim had stretched out so much to accommodate his girth and progress was maddeningly yet deliciously slow–until Spock finally accepted Jim all the way and sat back.

Both groaned and Jim finally released the air he’d held deep within his lungs. His head dropped against the pillows and he moaned again with his toes curling inward. “Fuck…Spock…you feel so fucking _good_.”

He couldn’t keep his eyes away for long however. Jim’s chin lifted again, seeing the ridiculously erotic image of his cock encompassed snugly and protruding from that opening much too tight, while Spock rose off it slowly.

Patiently, he waited while Spock adjusted to the penetration, observing as he began with slow movements and rapidly built up to riding Jim hard. Jim’s mouth opened and he exhaled brokenly as he watched Spock’s hips rocking back and forth at an insatiable pace.

“You’re…going…to hurt yourself,” Jim somehow managed to rasp out.

All he received in reply was a harder thrust and he tossed his head back, closing his eyes tightly and moaning loudly.

Even with his warning going ignored, Jim would accept responsibility. He’d have to do a lot of apologizing to Spock’s hole after this was over……but he fully intended to kiss it until it got better.

Jim was sure he’d be forgiven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
